MPC English & Study Skills Center

Comparison: Sample Point by Point Essay

Introduce both items of comparison and state a thesis at the
end that makes a point about the two.

All
people experience changes in their lives as they grow
older. Some people are afraid of those changes and try to
keep their lives the same. They live in the same place with
the same people and do the same things. I was never one for
sameness. I always wanted to see the world. I grew up on a
farm in northern Idaho, near a small town. I lived like a
free little native, running barefoot in the fields and
trees, surrounded by mountains. California was another
world. At 18, I moved to San Francisco to go to school.
The woods and mountains were replaced with trees and
buildings. I put on shoes and set out to learn about the
new world I’d moved into. I got some surprises. My old life
was much less complicated than my new life.

Make a
point of comparison for each topic and then write about
first one item of the comparison and then the other. In
longer essays, each half of the comparison is a separate
paragraph (as in this essay). In a short essay, they may be
combined in one paragraph. A transition separates the two
halves of the comparison (different from, in contrast, on
the other hand, etc.)

First, the rules of life were different in Idaho from those
in California. In Idaho, I trusted everyone. There were no
locks on our doors. Strangers were welcomed without
questions or fears. Because the winters were harsh in Idaho
and the roads were often closed, my parents used to rent a
small apartment in town for us. Whoever needed or wanted to
stay in town just stayed there. I didn’t like to miss
school, so I often stayed there when the roads were
closed. Sometimes, when I was eight or nine years old, I
would stay in town for a week or more at a time by myself.
Mom always left money in the cupboard, so I just climbed up
and got some money and went to Safeway or the Pastime Cafe.
No one seemed surprised to see a little girl by herself.
The people at the store helped me find what I wanted. The
waitresses at the Pastime always gave me a big dessert, and
the little old woman down the hall used to tap on my door
to invite me over for cookies and TV. My parents never
worried about me, and I never even thought about being
afraid. The world I knew was safe, and the people in it
were kind. If I needed help, I could ask almost anyone.
There were a few town drunks, but almost no crime and no
drugs.

In San Francisco, in contrast to Idaho, I soon learned that
I was not to trust anyone. Every door was locked. Nobody
trusted strangers. When I first went downtown in San
Francisco, I smiled and said “hello” to everyone. People
often answered me, but they did it with very strange looks
on their faces. Some of the other students decided I needed
protection because I didn’t have enough brains to survive on
my own in the city. They told me not to look at people and
not to talk to strangers. They showed me how to hold my
purse so that it would be hard to steal. After awhile, I
noticed that people really weren’t the same. They didn’t
look at me when they walked down the street; they looked
through me. When I tried to tell a young woman on the bus
how beautiful her baby was, she glared at me, tightened her
arms around her baby, and turned away. She was afraid of
me. Her baby was growing up in a world of locks and
strangers whom she needed to fear. The streets seemed full
of drunks, addicts, and thieves. I realized I needed to be
afraid of strangers, too, to protect myself.

Continue
with points of comparison—usually at least three points for
an essay.

Next, the sounds were different in Idaho from those in San
Francisco. In Idaho, the sounds were those typical of a
farm: the barking of dogs, the mooing of the cows, the
whistling of wind in the trees. The sounds of the night
were always my favorite. At sundown, the coyotes started to
howl, and the sound echoed eerily from the surrounding
forests and hills. The frogs answered with a cacophony of
croaks from the creek at the bottom of the hill, and the
crickets added to the noise. The cattle and the dog joined
in, too. If I listened quietly, I could hear the wind
whistle around the corner of the house. Sometimes, the
annoying buzz of a mosquito would add to the sound mix. The
air was alive with sound, but the sounds were those of
nature. I could listen or not listen because the sounds
weren’t intrusive. Even in town, the rare sound of a siren
only meant that the deputy was on his way home to dinner and
was signaling his wife to set the table.

In San Francisco, my ears were assaulted by the sounds of
the city: the honking of cars, yelling of people, and
wailing of sirens. My first night in the city was a
horror! I couldn’t sleep all night. My dorm room was
across the street from St. Francis Memorial Hospital, right
in the middle of the city. The emergency room faced the
dorm. All night long, I could hear the ambulances and the
sirens as they raced to the emergency entrance. I could
hear the ambulance attendants talking to the nurses. I
could hear the cars going by incessantly, braking and
accelerating with the change of the traffic light on the
corner. I couldn’t hear myself think! This was not
pleasant background sounds of nature; it was intrusive,
loud, human-made noise that was inescapable. I learned to
fight noise with noise: my stereo against the outside
world.

Last, the people seemed totally different in Idaho from
those in San Francisco. (This is not an exaggeration. They
were a different species altogether.) In Idaho, people were
pretty much the same—color-wise and everything-else-wise.
My father was a typical “blue collar” person (except his
collar was usually green). He was a farmer and drove a
school bus to make ends meet. He wore blue overalls over
black work pants and a dark green shirt—everyday. He had
one suit in his entire life. He wore it to weddings and
funerals. He also had one tie and one white shirt. My
mother made her own clothes and mine, too, until I got old
enough to make my own, so everything had a homemade,
flowered-print sort of look. People worked, went to church,
cooked, ate, and lived very similar lives. They didn’t beg
on the streets, and they didn’t appear to be confused about
their genders, at least not in public.

In San Francisco, on the other hand, the people were a
revelation! There were people in uniforms, in suits, in
rags—all kinds of people. On my first walk down Market
street, I saw beggars in filthy clothes sitting on the
sidewalks with signs, “Help me, I’m hungry.” There was also
a blind man playing an accordion, with a can for donations
in front of him. Then, there were the men with makeup . . .not
that there’s anything wrong with that!. However, I’d
never seen a man wear makeup; I didn’t even know there were
men who might want to wear makeup. I was completely
confused as to why both men and women, wearing hot pants,
would be standing around on street corners in the cold San
Francisco weather. It seemed like a strange fashion
statement to make. Added to that, there were Asians, and
African Americans, and East Indians, and Greeks, and
Russians, and Mexicans, and everything else. The people
were confusing, fascinating, amazing, and truly wonderful!

In the
conclusion, review the main points and reiterate the thesis,
but in different words

I’ve been off of the farm for a long time now, and I can
appreciate and value the differences between Idaho and San
Francisco. Idaho was a terrific place to grow up. I could
run the hills feeling safe and in tune with nature. It was,
in many ways, an idyllic life. However, it was a sheltered
life. There is much to be gained from diversity. San
Francisco opened my eyes and my mind to so many
possibilities. I certainly became more flexible and more
accepting of difference. Over time, I learned to feel as
much at home in the chaos of the city as I did in the peace
of the country.